


Wait For Me

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Letters, Long Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back in England, it all felt like a dream.</p><p>But he wrote letters. One arrived every week, and I’d run up to my room to read it over and over again, to put it carefully into a box with all the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait For Me

That was our deal. We would write to each other, in letters, but no phone numbers, no email addresses, no searching for each other on Facebook. I was fine with it, until he stopped writing.

 

I’d thought that we’d had something special. Sure, I’d only been in New York for a couple of weeks, but we’d met on day two, and he’d shown me the sights every day after that. We’d kissed on top of the empire state building, and by the second week I booked out of the hotel and we stayed in his apartment.

 

Back in England, it all felt like a dream.

 

But he wrote letters. One arrived every week, and I’d run up to my room to read it over and over again, to put it carefully into a box with all the others.

 

 

_Dear Kurt,_

_It’s only been a few days, but I miss you like crazy already. New York just doesn’t shine as bright when you’re gone. That sounds stupidly sentimental, doesn’t it? But I can’t shake the memory of singing Come What May together on top of my apartment building, or the memory of you falling asleep on my sofa at four am. You looked so pretty._

_How’s England this time of year? I’m secretly hoping that it’s so cold and wet that you’re forced to come back to me, and then that you decide to never leave again. Of course, I could go to the UK, but I remember you saying about how you wanted to go to NYADA, so I think I have the advantage here._

_I love you._

_Blaine._

 

It went on like that for several months. I’d eagerly await each letter, until my roommate started making fun of me mercilessly. I spent an unhealthy amount of time dwelling on my visit there, too. I could still clearly map out his flat in my mind. Bright blue living room with an adjoining yellow kitchen, and a purple bedroom with a green en suite. He colour co-ordinated each room, so that everything in it was the same colour. I teased him about it, because it was so damn ugly to have a blue TV, but he just laughed. He was always laughing, always smiling.

 

Then, he stopped writing.

 

I waited a few months, to be sure. I kept sending letters once a week, but then I gave up. He obviously didn’t care any more. Maybe he’d found someone new. Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe the memories that kept me up at night meant nothing to him.

 

I started crying myself to sleep. It wasn’t that I really expected him to want to stay with me, or continue doing whatever we were doing. I just didn’t expect to have to let go so soon. Somehow, that made it worse.

 

I cherished his last letter, and read it every night, over and over again. There were no clues, no indication that he was soon going to get tired of me.

 

 

_Dear Kurt,_

_I’ve told you about Tina, right? Well, we’re going shopping next week, and I know your birthday’s coming up, so I was wondering if I could buy you a present (I’m going to anyway, just so you know). I’m bringing along Tina for the feminine taste, or something. I haven’t told anyone about you yet, though. It’s going to be a surprise._

_I know we have this rule that we’re not to know each other’s phone numbers or anything, but I’d give anything to hear your voice. I feel like if I could just hear it, one more time, I’d be truly happy. I feel sort of lost without you, if I’m honest. Sorry about the melodrama of it, but you made me feel so happy, and now that you’re gone, it seems like there’s nothing to be happy about anymore. I live for your letters. I read every one twice a day until I receive another. I analyse every word, over and over. I think it’s becoming an obsession. Maybe I should just hop on a plane to England. I might do that, for your birthday? Do you have room?_

_In reality, we’ve only known each other for a few months, but I can’t believe that. You know me better than anyone else. I need to see you again._

_I love you._

_Blaine._

Then came the silence. I’m confused and I feel abandoned, and I have to know why.

 

My roommate, Mike, agrees. He thinks I need closure; I think I need to see Blaine’s face again. But he asked his dad for money, and he got us enough money to fly to New York. On the plane, my foot kept tapping against the seat in nervous anticipation. What would I find there? Would Blaine even want to talk to me? I remembered his sunny smile as if I’d seen it just yesterday, and I felt sure that he wouldn’t cast me away.

 

I remembered with perfect clarity where to find his apartment. My heart thumped in my chest as I buzzed the intercom, as I waited for a reply.

 

“Hello?” a female voice. I jerked in surprise.

 

“I-I’m Kurt,” I said. “Are you Tina?”

 

A laugh. “No, I’m Rachel. Come on up.”

 

A nasal buzzing, and then I was on my way upstairs, to where I knew I would find Blaine. And this Rachel, whoever she was. I knocked on the door, and the door swung open immediately. She was pretty, Rachel, with long hair and bright eyes. She moved aside and rushed to the bookcase without a word, pulling down a basket, full of letters.

 

“Most of these are from you,” she explained. “Kurt. But Blaine…he doesn’t live here anymore.”

 

I stared in shock.

 

“Where does he live, then?” I demanded.

 

“Kurt, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this,” Rachel replied. I remember I thought that she looked like she was playing a part, exaggerated grief on her features. I think I knew what she was about to say. “Blaine is…dead. He died in a car accident a few months ago.”

 

The walls were closing in, and I recalled every word in his last letter with vivid clarity. They all seemed haunted now, every declaration of love and every promise that he’d come to visit. There wasn’t enough air in the room, and it felt like it was spinning.

 

“No.”

 

I had felt grief before, of course. My mother had died when I was young, and I’d almost lost my father. But this was different. This was the loss of a future, the loss of a dream. Blaine had been so vital, so full of life.

 

“Do you know where I can find Tina?” I croaked eventually. I needed to see someone, anyone, who had a link to him, who could tell me what had happened. She was my last hope.

 

Rachel looked as though she wanted to continue the theatrics for a little longer, but then her expression dissolved into a more genuine one, and she visibly softened.

 

“Of course. I’ll write down the address. She’s been to visit a few times,” Rachel smiled. “I don’t know anyone in New York, you see.”

 

I couldn’t really hear what she was saying, but I nodded dumbly, and allowed a piece of paper to be shoved into my hand. I looked at the paper and left without another word, getting into a cab and repeating the address in a monotone.

When I reached the apartment, I went straight up, ringing a doorbell that played an annoying tune until the door swung open. The girl who opened the door—Asian, with blonde highlights through her hair—smiled at me, although she obviously sensed my distress. I noticed that there were crutches leaning against the arm of the sofa in the room, but didn’t comment on it.

 

“Hello,” she said. “Come in.”

 

She had no idea who I was. But I followed her inside, noting her slight limp with a numbness in my heart.

 

“What happened to Blaine?” I asked bluntly, once we were both seated. Her eyes glazed over with tears in mere seconds, but she choked them back with a smile.

 

“I was in the cab with him,” she said. “We’d just been shopping. Um, he told me about you. Kurt, isn’t it? Anyway, he was so happy, there was a light in his eyes I hadn’t seen in months, when he talked about you. He was still gushing when we…when we got hit. The driver died instantly, and so did Blaine. I-I was on the other side.” She took a deep breath.

 

“Why didn’t you contact me?” I asked.

 

“I forgot,” she laughed weakly. “His mom and brother cleared out his apartment and sold it within a week. I was still in hospital. I went back and spoke to Rachel a few times, and I looked at your letters, but you didn’t give a return address. I just guessed that you’d forget.”

 

***

 

Now, I’m back in London. Not that I’m planning on staying here long. It was always my dream to live in New York…with or without Blaine.

 

I don’t think anyone understands how much I truly loved him. They think that a few months means nothing. I think that people have fallen in love faster. I think that I’ve never felt more strongly for anyone in my entire life, and I don’t think I ever will again.

 

I was never invited to the funeral. He never told anyone, so I meant nothing. I was no one. I keep thinking that if I’d just done something differently, he would be walking through the door right now, on my birthday, with whatever he and Tina had picked out on that fateful day.

 

I keep writing letters.

 

I’ll never forget.


End file.
